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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046164">The Wrath of a Brother</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary'>temporaryistemporary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Injury, Dead Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Good Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Dream SMP Ensemble, Mentioned Mexican Dream, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, hes there for like two scenes but he’s mostly vibing on his own, hes trying anyway</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporaryistemporary/pseuds/temporaryistemporary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The space for Tommy changed almost constantly, ranging from shrinking until it was hardly there at all to becoming so huge and overwhelming that it felt like a black hole. On those days Wilbur could swear that he hears his brother’s voice echoing through from the land of the living, could almost see his shadowy outline standing just out of reach.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>288</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Wrath of a Brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The afterlife was dull. And he didn’t just mean boring, which it was, of course. Everything was muted, desaturated, lifeless. It was like he was existing in an old, faded painting, all subdued colors and hazy shapes. He couldn’t feel anything, couldn't touch or taste, there was no real food or drink for the dead, only echoes of past wants to make one feel more normal.</p><p>Wilbur didn’t participate in this, seeing no point in playing pretend, and watching with disgusted pity as Mexican Dream scarfed down any food he conjured up and Schlatt did his best to get drunk on misty vodka that they both knew wouldn’t have the desired effect. It was kind of funny, watching the ram hybrid become more pissed off with every swig of the bottle that disappeared on his tongue, cursing the abyss for his forced sobriety. That was probably the reason Schlatt stayed asleep, choosing to drift in the darkness rather than stay awake and wallow in self pity and hate. Mexican Dream tended to stay in his own claimed corner of the void, only coming out to play cards or annoy the ram hybrid when he was conscious, having very little else to do to keep himself entertained. He had attempted to do the same to Wilbur with little success, giving up when he only received an eyebrow raise and a look that promised eternal pain should he continue.</p><p>Wilbur chose to pass the time with solitaire, sleeping, or occasionally peeking into the living world through either the eyes of his ghostly counterpart, or through a more tiresome method that allowed him to look wherever he wanted at the cost of at least a good week's worth of energy for a short glance. He tended not to use that practice very often, content, for the most part, with what he could see through Ghostbur. That was until Tommy’s exile.</p><p>That green <em> bastard</em>. If Wilbur could, he would force his darkened soul into the living world and tear the Admin limb from limb. How dare that man believe he had <em> any </em> say over what went on in L’Manberg when the whole point of their fight for independence was to be free of his damn tyranny? Wilbur had told Tommy to be wary, that he should be careful with who he trusted and he hadn’t listened. And now here his brother was getting thrown out of the country he helped found by his best friend. He truly hadn’t expected that of Tubbo, but then again maybe he shouldn’t have put too much faith in the boy. There was no one they could really trust anyway, him and Tommy, everyone else would only ever fuck them over in the end, he had <em> told him</em>-</p><p>No. No, that wasn’t true.</p><p>Those were the ravings of a madman and that wasn’t <em> him </em> anymore. That wasn’t who Wilbur was, he didn’t know who that man was. The paranoid fugitive who’s mind slowly wasted away in a ravine was no more. He knew he was wrong then, knew his thoughts were so jumbled and twisted that they weren’t his own at that point, further exploited by the man with the masked smile.</p><p>He knew better now. Ironically enough, the foggy afterlife had helped to clear his mind, letting him think rationally for the first time since he didn’t know when.</p><p>Logically, he was aware that Tubbo, along with others, were most likely still being manipulated by Dream, forced to comply with the man’s demands. That didn’t mean he still wasn’t angry, but he didn’t put the blame solely on them. Especially as he witnessed the masked man do everything he could to break his brother down, to bend to his will in a way that would benefit whatever sick goals the man had his mind. There was a lot missing, he knew, due to Ghostbur being absent from Logstedshire some of the time, not naive enough to believe the visits he saw were the only ones, but he didn’t want to risk being out for a week just to catch a glimpse of what he already knew was happening.</p><p>He had to, though, when Dream sent Ghostbur off and he had no way to check up on his little brother. Wilbur had tuned in just in time to see his brother cowering in fear as Dream yelled about hiding things and secret rooms. His consciousness followed them into an underground room he hadn’t even known existed. Everything in him screamed out to shield Tommy when the masked man pulled out TNT, lighting it and leaving Tommy to frantically pull items out of the hidden chests and cower in a corner. He wanted so badly to pull his brother into his arms and out of the hole, but he could only watch as the explosive’s fuse grew shorter, vision fizzling out just as the world lit up in a blaze of heat and fire.</p><p>When he woke up in the hazy abyss, it was to Schlatt sitting at the card table, scowling at an empty wine glass and grumbling to himself. Wilbur ignored him, channeling his view through Ghostbur’s eyes once again, seeing him in a log cabin with Technoblade and-</p><p><em> Tommy</em>.</p><p>Thank fuck, his brother was alright. He had no idea what happened while he was out but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment, relaxing at the sight of the child laughing at something the piglin hybrid had said or done. He quickly shut off the connection, collapsing back against the bed he seemed to find himself in anytime he used too much energy, and ignoring Schlatt’s questioning gaze.</p><p>He continued to check in on Tommy when he could, still sufficiently exhausted from his sudden use of power as well as the subsequent glances into Ghostbur’s mind, allowing little time for his soul to properly recuperate. That was fine, in his eyes. His brother was away from Dream and he knew Technoblade well enough to say the hybrid didn’t like the masked man, and was far too close to Phil to purposely do anything to anger or harm his friend, including handing his only living son over to an enemy.</p><p>Or, he thought he did. Up until both his father and former ally sided with the green bastard and blew everything he and Tommy had accomplished to ashes. A long time ago, he thinks maybe he would’ve been happy to see L’Manberg demolished. But now, watching through his ghost’s eyes as the spirit screamed at Phil and repressed the memory, as his brother and the rest of what used to be his country mourned their loss, Wilbur thinks maybe he hadn’t been as cruel as he had believed. At least he left them something to come back from.</p><p><em> This</em>, this was an end, a grand finale and a formal goodbye to a home that never gave a shit about any of them in the first place, but housed the people that had.</p><p>And wasn’t it hilarious that they didn’t even have that anymore? Wilbur couldn’t even bring himself to cry as he watched Niki set fire to the L’Mantree, the one spot he had made sure his stacks of TNT wouldn’t be able to reach when he set them off. Didn’t know how to feel as he caught sight of his son laughing at the wild destruction. Could only stare coldly at Jack Manifold’s hate-filled expression that was directed at <em> his </em> Toms, not that the boy noticed, too focused on the newly made crater in the world. What had happened to these people? They used to be a family, when had that stopped?</p><p>Wilbur had felt a spot growing in the afterlife, making room for a new soul that the void seemed keen on collecting. It was a few days before he realized who that space was for. If he had been able to, he would’ve vomited all over Schlatt’s shoes then and there.</p><p>But Tommy didn’t die, and neither did Tubbo, nor Dream. He was relieved at the first two, and frankly pissed off at the last one. That man deserved far worse than a prison cell, in his opinion. The only good to come out of the ordeal was the return of Tommy’s discs and the small mercy of the murky abyss granting him some time to speak with the two boys. Even if it devolved into mostly incoherent shouting, at least he got to tell his brother how proud he was of him.</p><p>Once that was over he allowed himself to rest and save his strength, content that with Dream locked up his brother might get a bit of a reprieve on close calls with death. Then the space came back, still calling out for Tommy, and Wilbur quickly tuned back in.</p><p>He had to be strategic about it, now that Ghostbur was gone and he couldn’t simply look through the spirit’s eyes. He checked in on Tommy first, briefly seeing him in a snowy biome with Tubbo. When he recovered enough from that, he looked in on Tubbo, once again in the cold but this time with Jack Manifold. They were going into a room but the vision cut off before Wilbur was able to see what it was. He watched Jack next, listening in on a conversation with Niki of all people (the two had never been all that close), and hearing them-</p><p>That couldn’t be right. Why would they- No. <em> No. </em> Niki was… Tommy thought of her as a sister. She was family and so was Jack.</p><p>But they wanted to kill Tommy. They wanted to <em> murder </em> his brother. His sixteen year old baby brother. <em> With a fucking nuke?! </em></p><p>Wilbur didn’t even register that he was screaming in absolute rage until he looked up from where he was pacing back and forth, fists clenched in his hair, to find Schlatt once again seated at the table, staring at him. The man was, for once, without any alcohol, seemingly listening to Wilbur rant about Niki and Jack’s plot to kill his brother. They locked eyes for a moment, Wilbur’s shining in anger, and Schlatt’s swirling in disgust and confusion. The ram hybrid must’ve been well and truly out of his mind in the living world to be able to execute a kid on a stage without batting an eye, only to then be horrified in the afterlife at the idea of someone going out of their way to murder a different child.</p><p>(He reminded himself that until he had died, Wilbur had never actually seen Schlatt in a sober headspace, only ever having witnessed the man’s drunken or otherwise influenced mood swings. Maybe forced sobriety was a good thing for the man after all, if it got him to feel empathy. Or maybe it was being away from the SMP, and any manipulations from an outside force. Whatever it was, Wilbur was glad for it. He quite liked this new Schlatt, maybe they could even be friends.)</p><p>The space for Tommy changed almost constantly, ranging from shrinking until it was hardly there at all to becoming so huge and overwhelming that it felt like a black hole. On those days Wilbur could swear that he hears his brother’s voice echoing through from the land of the living, could almost see his shadowy outline standing just out of reach. On those days Schlatt does his best to distract him, forcing him to play “competitive solitaire” or dragging in Mexican Dream for a game of poker or some other thing. It helps somewhat, but only for a little while.</p><p>He nearly starts screaming again when he checks in to find Tommy visiting the prison. Wilbur had thought the boy was done with that, his brother had gone so long without seeing Dream that he had assumed Tommy had finally decided to move on with his life. So why was he back at the prison? It was worrying, especially since the space hadn’t shrunken in over a week, instead steadily increasing in size. Wilbur could feel it in his soul, the way the void called to his brother, like a mother bird crooning softly to its young, beckoning him in.</p><p>And then it happened. The abyss grew restless, shifting and shaking, and between one blink and the next, there he was. Tommy, his brother, his little boy, <em>his</em> <em>Toms</em>.</p><p>Wilbur ran to him, nearly falling over himself in his haste, and collapsed to his knees in front of him. The child was curled in on himself, shaking like a leaf, and when Wilbur rested a gentle hand on his shoulder Tommy jerked violently. The boy’s head whipped up to stare at him and he winced at the bruises and blood covering nearly every inch of his brother, the injuries already fading as the weight of the void settled over him.</p><p>“Oh, Toms,” Wilbur murmured, making sure his hands were away but in sight of the boy. “When I said I’d see you soon, I didn’t mean like this.”</p><p>Tears began to stream down his brother’s face and Wilbur stumbled backwards as a weight slammed into his chest, Tommy clinging to him and choking on his own sobs. He wrapped his arms around the child and listened as his brother stuttered half put together thoughts through ragged breaths. Things like, <em> he wouldn’t stop</em>, and <em> it hurt so much</em>, and <em> I didn’t want to die</em>. It made something in his already wounded soul shutter in rage and sorrow and regret. Wilbur held the child closer, humming old lullabies and other things he hoped would soothe him.</p><p>Eventually the boy’s energy depleted and Tommy fully collapsed against him, asleep. Wilbur sighed and pet a hand through his brother’s hair, only moving when he felt a presence behind them, glancing up to see Schlatt shifting unsteady. The ram hybrid helped him to his feet, steadying him as Wilbur cradled Tommy to his chest, and followed them back to the “house” (the shady thing was a carbon copy of the house Wilbur and Tommy used to live in as kids, except it clouded at the edges like a mirage). They settled Tommy into the bed, Wilbur tucking him in and pressing a fleeting kiss to his brother’s brow. He sat on the ground next to him, gripping the boy’s hand as if he would disappear if Wilbur took his eyes off him.</p><p>“Dream has the resurrection book,” Schlatt piped up suddenly, and Wilbur squeezed his brother’s fingers tighter. “He’s probably gonna use it to bring him back.”</p><p>“No the fuck he’s not,” Wilbur growled.</p><p>Schlatt scoffed at the reaction. “You don’t get a choice, Virgo. If Dream decides to use the book, you’re not going to be able to stop it.”</p><p>“Why are you bringing this up now?”</p><p>“Well,” the ram hybrid began, “might as well get the planning started with, right?”</p><p>Wilbur paused, eyes still scanning Tommy’s relaxed expression. “Planning?”</p><p>“Yeah. Figured you’d want to take down that green fuck after everything he’s done to you and Tommy, so-” Schlatt moved to sit on the floor near Tommy’s legs, back leaning against the bed. “-what are we gonna do?”</p><p>Wilbur considered questioning the use of <em> we</em>, wondering when the hell Schlatt decided revenge against Dream was a team effort, but decided against it. It didn’t matter all that much anyway. The ram hybrid was right though, they needed a strategy if they wanted to get out of here. If he wanted to kill Dream. More than that, he needed to figure out the best possible way to protect Tommy. Wilbur had left him alone and unprotected for far too long and he refused to do that again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this took a completely different direction than originally planned</p></blockquote></div></div>
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